


Arms Tonight

by CaraSam



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hair-pulling, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Power Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Riding, Scratching, Service Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, That's it, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Topping from the Bottom, implied nonhuman jaskier, jaskier washes geralt's back, just in a romantic way not a kink way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraSam/pseuds/CaraSam
Summary: "Jaskier bit his lip, leaning in to press against Geralt’s side. He could feel a hand ghosting up his chest, up his neck, to rest at his cheek. Could feel the breath tickling at his ear, hear the pounding of the other’s heart. He smelled anxious, but excited. There was a heated scent there too- lust. Geralt turned to grasp the other’s hips, and Jaskier took the hint to sweep himself into his lap, pushing the witcher onto the bed and kissing him softly."akaJaskier seduces Geralt during a meticulously planned date night, intending to confess his feelings
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 189





	Arms Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to my wonderful beta readers, moonfirewolf14 and kazeetie! This is actually more fluff and less kink than it sounds, but it is what it is

Geralt could prepare for almost anything. Noonwraiths, griffins, drowners, thugs, there was a bloody potion for everything. What he could not have prepared for was Jaskier. The bard had a knack for catching him off guard, for just long enough to be dangerous. He knew it wouldn’t be good for either of them if he got too close, but when the cheerful mortal was so persistent, it wasn’t like he could refuse him.

“Come, now, dear witcher, after tonight I’m sure we have coin enough to spare for a hearty supper.” Jaskier said, devilish grin wide across his rosy cheeks. He was up to something, surely, with that glint in his eye, but Geralt was much too tired to truly care. He could  _ feel  _ the sea water and drowner blood soaking through his clothes, sticking against his skin in the sickest way possible. He may be used to it, sure, but still, that ranked higher on his list of priorities than a hungry little imp with a heavy coin purse, itching to waste it on all the tastes Novigrad had to offer.

“I need a bath. You can eat without me.”

“Well that’s no fun, now is it?” Jaskier pretended to pout. “Least you can do is agree to have dinner with me after you’re all cleaned up. Is this how you greet an old friend? It’s our first stop in almost a week, and I haven’t gotten a good sit down with you since I ran into you. Here, I can even treat you. My pleasure.”

“Don’t need it-” He started gruffly, only to be stopped by a hand sliding over and tangling in his hair. It had grown out since the last time they’d seen each other, as he’d only bothered enough to shave his beard in that timespan, but beyond that, the sensation had him prickling up, and he was sure the other could tell. For such an obtuse flirt, he was oddly well tuned to Geralt when he wanted to be. With only a few looks, he had a witcher wrapped around his finger…

“Nonsense. Now we’re back in the big city. You need a good cleaning, I reckon, and a good meal. Come on, do it for a me. You can bathe while I get some dinner sent up. Don’t suppose I can really get you to a barber all covered in monster guts.” Jaskier hummed, looking over the slightly taller man for a moment before quickening his stride. “I have even saved some of my chamomile oil for you, so you can be properly presentable.”

“Why?” Geralt asked suspiciously, a hand reaching out for Roach’s snout. She snorted in response, but nuzzled her nose against his palm regardless.

“Perhaps because I plan to do a guest lecture at Oxenfurt, and I would very much like it if my companion looked his best. The better the folks think of you, the likelier they are to part with their coin. And perhaps I just prefer when you smell nice.”

It made sense, the witcher supposed, but something still seemed off about it. Jaskier smelled stronger, odder than usual. Where he could pass it off as his physical exhaustion from the days of walking, that just didn’t seem right. They’d travelled together off and on again for years, and he’d never shown any sign of aging, let alone slowing down in any respect. Surely he had a plan, but if he had to guess, it was better to just give in and roll with it. He wouldn’t get a moment’s rest regardless.

“Fine,” Geralt sighed, “but you don’t get to complain if I don’t clean up nicely.”

“Oh, you have quite the rugged charm, dear witcher, I’m not worried in the slightest about that.” The bard gave a bright smile, dropping his hand from Geralt’s admittedly tangled ponytail and back to his side. “No offense, but I’m mostly excited for the prospect of a long bath and a big meal.”

“You didn’t have to come along.”

“No, but then we wouldn’t have gotten the chance to catch up, now would we?”

“Hm.” They fell back into a comfortable silence, occasionally pausing for Geralt to pick up herbs and other alchemical ingredients before continuing back along the road to the inn.

Novigrad was a bustling town, a mix of folk that could almost allow Geralt to blend in. Almost. Better without all the gore on him. But at least then they were given a wide berth. Nothing like getting bumped into by five potential pickpockets in as many blocks to ruin a good day, after all.

The inn owner scoffed as soon as he saw the pair walk in, but didn’t comment beyond a simple “what do ya want.” They got two rooms and a place in the stable for Roach, and were quickly escorted upstairs to wash off in their respective rooms. Any comments from other patrons were determinedly ignored.

Geralt sighed as he finally dipped into the warmth of the bath, tension ebbing from his weary limbs. Sure he could be used to life on the road, but any break from it was well appreciated too. He closed his eyes, sinking into the water, soap bubbles splashing with the movement and clinging to his skin. He didn’t know how long he was in there, but obviously it was longer than he thought, because a cleaned and dressed Jaskier was strutting into the room in what felt like no time. “You could have knocked.”

“Like I haven’t seen it before? Anyway, I did. I just didn’t hear you respond, so here I am.”

“Here you are.” Geralt agreed. Jaskier knelt down at the side of the wooden tub, picking up the washcloth and beginning to rub dirt from his companion’s face and hair.

“I suppose I caught you meditating?”

“Mm.”

“No wonder then. I ordered dinner for the two of us. It should be ready by the time you’re all fixed up.” Jaskier said softly, running the rag over his body reverently. Were it not for the almost sad tint in his eyes, he’d almost say it was loving. But no, any hope of that had been dashed on the mountaintop, only for him to realize too late just how much he cared about the little mortal. This truce was nice though, so long as it lasted. They’d made up a ways back, but always seemed to dance around the subject, never addressing it head on. It made him want to cringe.

He closed his eyes as Jaskier continued to gently wash his body, moving him as needed and softly humming a tune. He recognized it, distantly, a melody he’d been working on years ago. Suppose he’d finished it by then. As much as he could pretend to dislike it, he really did like the bard’s music. It was a bit awkward when the songs were about him, but the rest were fun enough. Though his lewder sonnets and such could use some work. Finally, he felt a finger wipe some water off his eye, and he cracked the other open to observe him.

Jaskier’s hair was still wet, a reddish tint staining his face from the heat of the bath water, still steaming up to caress his face. It looked almost lewd. His clothes were simple enough, for once: a plain shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and some fancy red trousers. Couldn’t see much else, with the man only moving to get a better angle to wash him.

“I suppose this is where you tell me to get up so you can put lotion on me?”

“If you’d be so kind.” Jaskier said, giving him a wink. Geralt didn’t even bother to acknowledge it, just got up to dry himself. He wrapped the towel around his waist, the other biting his lip as he pulled out a small container of oil from his pocket. Even through the glass, he could smell the chamomile. It was stronger than what lingered on Jaskier, but this was the source of it, after all. Geralt laid down on the bed, rolling over onto his stomach and letting the bard crawl on top. The oil felt cool against his feverish skin, and he let out a pleased growl. Jaskier laughed, but continued to apply it to his back, covering all his scars with extra care before massaging it in. He paid extra attention to Geralt's shoulder blades and spine, then trailed down to the small of his back. The bard's hands were soft in a way that felt familiar, yet not at the same time. Geralt was used to the soft hands of a whore, or of whatever sorceress he had most recently fallen into bed with. He certainly had a type, but Jaskier was different. His fingertips were calloused from the strings of his lute, but retained a softness his hands had not. He was nothing like any lover he’d taken in the past, but still, he couldn’t help but be lost to those hands. He opened his eyes as he felt Jaskier’s weight shift back, then away. He glanced over, then sat up. 

“Why don’t you get dressed while I grab our dinner? I suppose it should be ready by now.”

“You’re not going to wait for the barmaid?”

“Why bother? Poor lass probably has her hands full, between our food and drinks.” Geralt quirked an eyebrow.

“You got us drinks?”

“I’ve travelled with you long enough, I figure I know what you like.” Geralt chuckled, but didn’t deny it. Years of travel did that, after all. He still remembered the preferred drink of all his brothers, of Vesemir, of Yen… Hell, he still remembered how Ciri liked her hot cocoa when she was training in Kaer Morhen. It wasn’t such a stretch that Jaskier might know him just as well.

“I shall meet you-”

“In my room. There is something we must discuss.” Now that gave him pause. Not that Jaskier seemed eager to give any answers. The bard just stood, and went down the stairs.

Geralt dressed lazily, and had just tied up his hair when he heard the door next to him open and close again. He only managed to knock once before Jaskier was opening the door, ale in hand. He took it coolly, striding in and sitting down on the bed. On the side table were two meals, both steak and vegetable soup. It wasn’t special, per say, but it was a filling enough, and a nice gesture nonetheless. Jaskier handed him his bowl before taking his own, sitting beside him and poking the meat with a spoon.

“What’s this all about?” Geralt finally asked, looking up from his food to the room around him. Candles were set out here and there, and there was some sort of perfume there. It wasn’t the strongest, a thing he was grateful for, but there nonetheless. If he had to guess, rosewater and lavender. An interesting choice.

Jaskier’s grin was coy, the mischief glinting in his eyes again. “I’ll tell you after dinner. Let’s say I expect you’ll need your strength.”

Geralt raised a brow, but didn’t object as they both scarfed down their food. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t hooked up before, in occasional bursts of passion. They’d fuck, then wouldn’t talk about it. If the bard was playing at what Geralt thought he was, it would certainly be the first time they’d premeditated their… well, for lack of a better word, their fucking. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t thought of pulling him into some secluded alley somewhere, or found an isolated spot in the woods, and ravaging him. He had a fairly healthy sexual appetite, after all. One that Jaskier seemed all too happy to cater to.

The soup was gone in an instant, their drinks following suit immediately after. Jaskier bit his lip, leaning in to press against Geralt’s side. He could feel a hand ghosting up his chest, up his neck, to rest at his cheek. Could feel the breath tickling at his ear, hear the pounding of the other’s heart. He smelled anxious, but excited. There was a heated scent there too- lust. Geralt turned to grasp the other’s hips, and Jaskier took the hint to sweep himself into his lap, pushing the witcher onto the bed and kissing him softly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“I have a guess.”

“Well well well! And you never did anything about that?” The bard smirked playfully, fingers brushing over Geralt’s lips, jaw, then down to his belly and up his shirt. “No witcher seduction guide you could give me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”

“I’ve had a while to plan it, and years to figure out what you like.” The witcher’s coarse hands travelled up the other’s knees, up his thighs to rest on his hips, which he held tight as he ground up against his ass.

“I’ve got no objections.”

“Even if I say I may keep you in bed tomorrow as well?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“How do you want to do this?”

“Aren’t you the one calling the shots right now, Jask?” His voice was low and smooth, and he could feel the way his lover shivered at that.

“Then how about you lay back and let me take care of you?” Jaskier asked, reaching down to brush some hair from Geralt’s face. “I’ll be gentle with you… After all, don’t you miss the way I fuck you? I certainly missed how you feel in me. But one thing at a time, I’m going to take this slow.”

“Yes, that sounds… That’s good.” The older man bit his lip, looking over the other hungrily. “I assume you have the lube?”

“Absolutely. I’d hate to miss out on a good opportunity otherwise.”

“Of course you would.” Geralt chuckled, kissing him slowly before leaning back into the hay mattress. Jaskier smiled softly in reply, cupping his cheeks as he leaned into the attention. Of all the things he may have expected from sleeping with a witcher, a soft lover was not what he’d envisioned. It was actually a fairly pleasant surprise, because while he could enjoy being fucked senseless now and then, there was something more emotional, more personal about a night of slow lovemaking. Lovemaking being something Geralt was quite good at.

They took their time to slowly undress each other through languid kisses, hands roaming every inch of skin that was exposed to the dying light shining through the windows. It was almost picturesque, something beautiful for only the two of them to enjoy.

“Geralt, I want you now. I’ve been waiting so long for this…” Jaskier said breathlessly, a hand playing over the other’s firm chest. Naked, he could really appreciate how strong he actually was, and it only added to his want. Geralt’s hands held his hips tightly as he leaned over the bed to fish some lubricant from one of the pockets on his discarded belt. He opened the cork to unceremoniously coat his fingers, bringing them to his entrance to prepare himself.

Jaskier, ever the showman, made sure to arch and moan as he opened himself up, biting his lips a pretty pink and fluttering his lashes. In another life, he would have made the most beautiful whore, but in this moment, the world felt like it couldn’t exist beyond their four walls.

“ _ Please, _ ” Geralt rasped, and that one word seemed enough to pull the bard from his show.

“My my… Could it be I’ve actually found a way to make you beg?” He taunted breathlessly. The drag of his fingers leaving his plump ass sounded downright dirty, pulling a groan from the both of them.

“I believe that is your arena.”

“Then why don’t you show me no mercy?” Jaskier quickly lubed up the witcher’s shaft, guiding it until the head breached him, practically punching the air from his lungs. He’d known Geralt was big, hell, he’d admired it, practiced to take it, been preparing since long before they started their little rendezvous, but there was something different about impaling himself on it. There was something about feeling Geralt’s hands caressing his sides, urging him down to take in inch after blissful inch, something that made it feel better, softer than he’d expected. It was less like bedding a rampaging beast, and more like the careful lovemaking befitting a wedding night. There was a tenseness, almost a pinch, as his body readjusted to accommodate him, but he couldn’t say he minded in the slightest. Every slow slide of their bodies together had him moaning, panting, melting against him. And to Geralt? To Geralt it felt like heaven.

“Melitele’s tits, Jask-” The name caught in his throat as his hips instinctively thrust up into the loving warmth of his companion’s body. They both moaned as Geralt was finally fully sheathed, each taking a moment to adjust before moving in earnest. “Melitele’s tits, Jaskier, is this what you’ve been plotting?”

“And if it is?” The bard replied breathlessly, hands resting on the other’s abs as he ground their hips together in a circle motion. Something he was very glad of when it came to Geralt was how at almost any position, his size always seemed to brush his sweet spot in some way or another and make every second feel like he was on cloud nine. He wouldn’t be surprised if his cock had been crafted by the gods themselves, for perfection such as he possessed.

“I would have to, hah… I would have to reward your effort, I suppose.” Geralt cooed, yellow eyes half lidded as the two rocked together. Jaskier was the picture of beauty, flushed brightly, hair a mess, body on display for him and him alone. His eyes roved over him hungrily, following the trail of hair from Jaskier’s chest down to his belly, until it finally ended at his dick, hard and aching to be touched. Ever the gentleman, he obliged; his hand slid up the other’s thigh to wrap around him, stroking him in time. The noise he got in response was better than anything he could have ever wanted.

“Geralt, fuck’s sake…” The younger groaned, picking himself up until only the head was left inside him, only to drop down onto him more fully, thoroughly fucking himself with Geralt’s cock as the other just watched in awe.

“I like it when you say my name like that.”

“Geralt, witcher, love, I’m so close-”

“Already?” he teased.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me since the minute I ran into you! Fuck me properly, you absolute ass!” His voice was cracked and needy, breathless as he started rambling with increasing desperation. “I beg of you, take me like you mean it!”

“Of course I mean it.” Geralt said, voice low and smooth as he thrust up and sideways, rolling them over to press Jaskier into the mattress. The flimsy wooden headboard hit the wall with the force of it, but it went entirely ignored as the two set about a brutal pace. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know that? It’s so sexy when you take control, tell me how you want me… Your lewd writings are nothing compared to how wonderful you sound when you’re talking dirty to me.”

“Try th- this on for size then,” Jaskier groaned, wrapping his legs around the other’s waist. “I want you to fuck me senseless. Now come here and kiss me already.”

Geralt was happy to oblige his request, hiking the other’s legs up over his shoulders, practically bending him in half as he leaned down to kiss him slowly and sweetly. Jaskier groaned his approval against his lips, digging his nails into Geralt’s scarred back as he thrust into him. The change in angle had him hitting and dragging against his prostate with every thrust, thoroughly stealing away any rational thoughts in preference for moans and praises. The other smiled into their stolen kisses, snaking a hand down to wrap around Jaskier’s cock, pushing him over the edge.

“Ger-! Aah!” Jaskier cried, body shaking as his orgasm crashed over him, tightening around Geralt’s cock and nails leaving bright red marks in their wake as he struggled to ground himself. The influx of sensation had the witcher moaning and losing himself in the other’s body, hips grinding to a halt as hypersensitivity set in.

The pair laid exhausted in each other’s arms as they caught their breath, sweat and cum cooling between them, though neither seemed to pay it any mind, too caught up in each other’s presence.

“You…” Geralt spoke first, for once hesitant to pull away. “Really planned to seduce me?”

“Absolutely, and I’d say it worked, wouldn’t you?” the other laughed softly.

“I just didn’t expect you would premeditate such a thing. I thought this was a friends with benefits situation.”

“Well, anticipation is its own form of foreplay, don’t you think?” Jaskier winked, and Geralt only rolled his eyes. “I like you, I don’t much care what our relationship status is, if I can annoy you now and then.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here we are.” Soft fingers ran across the scars of the witcher’s back, smoothing over the marks they left in the heat of the moment. “Now, why don’t we get cleaned up and have a talk about this arrangement? I don’t know about you, but I think this is a little more than friends now… At least on this end.”

“I certainly am interested in… Seeing where this goes. Though you really do write a ballad about everyone who strikes your fancy, don’t you?”

“I don’t see you complaining. I’ve been attempting to serenade you from the start!” The bard gave a playful grin, wiggling his hips. “Though, I do believe we may have just given a concert to the whole inn.”

“Ah, fuck.” Geralt chuckled.

“A problem for another time.” The bard replied, leaning up to press their foreheads together. “I want to know if you fancy me.”

“I put up with you, protect you from your messes, and have been coming back for more ever since the first time we met. You’ve forgiven me for all the wrongs I’ve done to you, and given me more kindness than I shall ever deserve.” Geralt said softly, leaning in to kiss him gently. “I… May not be as well versed in conversation as you, but I care about you. I’m not quite sure how to say it otherwise, but, if you’ll have me, I can be yours.”

“And you say you aren’t a wordsmith… Geralt, I have long since forgiven you for the scuffle on the mountain. Stop beating yourself up for it. We all have spats, and I think no less of you for it. I love you despite it, and I want to be your partner, all proper like.”

“Then so it shall be.”

“Who knew a witcher could be so sweet?” Jaskier said, cheeks rosy. “Come here, let’s you and I get cleaned up. I have more plans for us, and unfortunately for us both, that will involve clothing.”

“A pity… Though I am curious what you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Mm, just wait and see, darling.” The bard said softly, pulling him into another soft kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, recommendations, or requests would be much appreciated! Thank you all for reading my insomnia written smut fic


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